Volusius’ Annals, merdous paper, fulfil ye a vow for my girl: for she vowed to sacred Venus and to Cupid that if I
were reunited to her and I desisted hurling savage iambics, she would give the most elect writings of the pettiest poet
to the tardy-footed God to be burned with ill-omened wood. And this the saucy minx chose, jocosely and drolly
to vow to the gods. Now, O Creation of the cerulean main, who art in sacred Idalium, and in Urian haven, and who doth
foster Ancona and reedy Cnidos, Amathus and Golgos, and Dyrrhachium, Adriatic tavern, accept and acknowledge this vow
if it lack not grace nor charm. But meantime, hence with ye to the flames, crammed with boorish speech and vapid,
Annals of Volusius, merdous paper.